"Oh, my beloved! Why do you torment yourself?"
"Please look for it," he said.
Further resistance was not to be thought of. She fetched the key of the escritoire, unlocked and opened the drawers at random, and searched wildly, hardly seeing what she was doing, among the papers. Ah, here it was! She hadn't looked at it for years. Imperiously and vindictively the light-lashed eyes glanced at her as much as to say: "Cheat, lie, and swindle. I have done it too."
"This is it," she said.
He took it to the light, stared long and earnestly at the features. His lips twitched, and he jerked the photograph nervously as he held it in his hand.
"Just as I once stood before the photograph of the young orphaned heiress," she thought; but that was long ago.
Then she heard his voice asking hoarsely, "Will you answer a single question, which is of vital importance to me?"
"Ask anything you like, dearest."
"Are you still building on the return of this young man?"
Where did the question lead? She felt she only had to say "No" to break down all obstacles. But if she did, the tale she had been telling her friend about Walter would be utterly without sense or meaning, and who could tell then if his suspicions would not at last be aroused?